


Something wicked this way comes

by taurussieben



Series: Double, double toil and trouble [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is a Good Friend, Developing Relationship, Hunk and Coran own a coffee shop and bakery, Light Angst, M/M, Professor Shiro (Voltron), Urban Fantasy, Witch Keith (Voltron), Witch Lance (Voltron), author has no regrets, lance is a good friend, mentions of past Adam/Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taurussieben/pseuds/taurussieben
Summary: By the pricking of my thumbs,Something wicked this way comes.When Keith meets Shiro, it sounds like the start of your normal love story. But Keith is a witch, set on a specific path in his life, a battle witch with sharp teeth and glowing eyes, with roaring lions in his mind and the laughter of a goddess. And Shiro, well he is a professor, who may get in over his head.





	1. I, You and me

**Author's Note:**

> I started this AU last November as my Nanowrimo project. On the wings of the last day, I made the 50k, but the work was still only partly done. Finally many many months later, part I is finally polished enough to post. I hope you have as much fun reading it, as I had fun writing it. :D 
> 
> I'm forever grateful to galacteddy and especially [cryptidkickflip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkickflip), who fought bravely many commas, and may have also won the war.
> 
> Please enjoy.

  
“Shit.” The curse vibrated through the still air of the late evening. His strength slowly seeping away, Keith caught himself against the dirty alley wall with his back. He took a large gulp of air, trying to breathe through the eye-watering stench of a big city’s back alley. Raising his head, Keith saw a few people crossing the alley opening. There was the whooshing sound of cars driving by. He took a hesitant step forward. For a split second, he thought that maybe everything would be alright, but then he wobbled. And suddenly it was his shoulder making contact with the wall.

“Fucking shit.” He cursed again. Every breath he took, every second he was upright cost him strength. Until nothing was left and he slowly sunk down. He pressed his back against the cold stone and drew his knees up. Breathing was becoming difficult. All energy left was there to keep him alive. After a few minutes he tried to get up again, but his muscles would not obey. It was beyond frustrating.

Time to consider his options.

He could wait, wait through the night until he had enough energy to freaking move. Or at least to send a message out, to get someone of the others to help him. Keith gritted his teeth. He tried a tiny location spell to find out where exactly he was, but the spell just made a little puffing sound and was gone, taking even more of his strength with it. He sighed and looked up. The sky was dark. He rolled his head along the wall to the opening, a steady stream of people throwing moving shadows in his direction, but it was not a very dense crowd. His guess was very early morning. It was cold, wind kept blowing inside through the opening now and then making him shiver. His black t-shirt was not designed to keep the warmth in, his black leather pants and combat boots at least kept some parts not as cold as his arms. He drew his knees tighter to his body, trying to conserve some of the warmth. A whole night staying out like this would be a bad idea. But-

Another shadow but instead of crossing. It stayed, not moving. Keith blinked and let his eyes wander back to the opening. A burly man was standing there, just looking in. The light from the streetlamps was breaking at his back, making it impossible to read the face. Was it a friend or foe? Was he even looking at him?

“You alright man?” The voice was booming and a little hesitant. A strange combination. Keith tried to find his voice, but a tingle made him stop. He blinked. He knew that kind of energy, even if it was pretty lowkey. The other was a witch, with a soft and humming magic, light and delicate, warm.

Keith let himself relax. “Not quite.”

There was a pause.

“You just saying that to make me come over and help you and then rob me?”

Keith blinked, then chuckled more out of surprise than finding it really funny. “You think I would tell you that I want to mug you?”

Keith could see a hand moving to the neck of the other man, an embarrassed gesture. Another chuckle. “Some people are surprisingly bad at lying on the spot.”

Keith just shook his head, probably a futile gesture. “I just need some money to get home.” Well not really, but money could get him into a warm place. He sighed. The other suddenly moved with surprising speed. Making Keith jump a bit as the other was closer than he had anticipated. The stranger crouched down in front of him. A darker complexion than his own, thick black hair and kind dark eyes. The stranger made a low humming sound, as the eyes tracked every inch of him, searching for something. He drew back with a satisfied sound.

“You don’t smell like booze. And your eyes are clear, not muddled with the desperation or the high of a junkie.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

The stranger laughed. “Sadly I have no money on me.” He paused. “But, I can get you somewhere warm.” It was followed by a smile that crinkled his eyes. “I need to be at work in a few minutes. There will be coffee and something to eat and a phone you can use, to call whoever can help you. Deal?”

Keith nodded gratefully. “Sure.” He gritted his teeth, trying to get up. His body would just not move. Heat rose in his cheeks. “Can- can you help me?” There was softness in the eyes of the other. He stood up and took a step back, then he bowed down and thrust a hand in the direction of Keith. Keith took it, and with one swift move he hauled Keith up, the other arm coming around to steady him. They stood in utter stillness for a few heartbeats.

“You think you can walk?”

Keith took a breath and tried to calm his heart. Willing his muscles to obey him these last moments. He nodded. “I think so.” They started walking, the other still keeping close.

“The name is Hunk.”

Keith smiled. “Keith.”

  
It was a short walk, only two doors down. A small building, with two big windows. Hunk took out a big jiggling key chain and let them both in, flipping a light switch on the way, before locking the door behind them again. A soft glow illuminated them. Hunk pointed to a cluster of tables and chairs. Keith sighed gratefully, able to finally sit down. He was not sure how long he could have maintained staying upright out of sheer stubbornness.

Hunk, the angel, brought him a blanket, draping it over his shivering body. Hunks face was apologetic. “The central heating will kick in any moment. The kitchen would be warmer, but sadly we need to be careful with food safety.” Keith just rolled himself into the blanket settling into his chosen window seat in the furthest corner from the door.

He smiled gratefully at Hunk. “Don’t worry Hunk, it is miles better than being outside.”

Hunk’s answering smile was blinding. “Coffee or tea?” While asking, he stepped back around the bar, already getting the utensils out.

“Coffee please.” It was the last words for the next minutes. Keith watched with a gentle expression as Hunk expertly worked the monster of an espresso machine. The roar and hiss of it filled for a moment the room before it sputtered down.

A minute later put Hunk a steaming mug in front of him, accompanied by a soft smile. “If you need anything, just holler. I will be in the kitchen.”

Keith nodded and wrapped his hands around the mug. Sighing in pleasure as the warmth slowly sept into his hands. A slow look around showed him a small cafe with forest green walls and comfy armchairs in various sizes and colors. It was just on the right side of comfy without appearing stuffed. The opposite wall was hung with rows and rows of bookshelves, bursting with books, stuffed in every possible free space. The heart piece was a bar, with high stools and empty displays, surely for whatever Hunk was whipping up in the kitchen.

There was low humming magic, close to the surface permeated into the walls around him. A warm kind of magic, nearly the same as Hunks. It welcomed him, folding around him. Keith stretched his legs out, his muscles relaxing with the rising warmth. His eyes wandered to the outside world. The sky was slowly lightening up, changing from inky blackness to a lighter grey and blue, the yellow and red hues of the rising sun, barely hidden behind the high buildings surrounding them. The stream of people had kicked up a notch. One or the other passersby, would catch his gaze and threw him an odd look. A human bundled up in a blanket, in a closed up coffee shop. But their gaze drifted away, and soon he was surely forgotten, just a distant memory of black hair and strange violet eyes.

The hour drifted away.

Something clinked at his side, startling him a bit. The smell of fresh bread wavered over, made his mouth water and the stomach growl. Keith looked up, Hunk still smiled softly, making him feel like he was missing something. Did he fall asleep?

“Figured you would be hungry. It's only fresh bread with butter. There is currently nothing else to put on the bread. I’m sorry about that. Coran will be around in a bit and bring more.” Keith blinked. It was the first time he ever heard that name. Not a common name to the mortal world. Another witch maybe?

“Coran?”

Hunk spread his fingers. “The owner of the place.”

Keith stopped. “Hunk, shit, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

And started already struggling out of the blankets, but the other just laughed. “Everything will be alright, don’t fret.” He winked and trotted back to the kitchen.

For a moment Keith worried his under lip, deciding between going and staying, but the smell of the bread and the fresh pot of coffee made the decision for him. He reached for one slice. The crust was crunchy and the inside soft and slightly moist. The smell was otherworldly; biting into it Keith froze instantly. He slowly chewed and swallowed and starred a the bread. It was infused with magic. With fucking magic. Hunk was a witch who could infuse food with magic. Keith wanted to laugh.  
“Really?” He whispered. Of all the places, of all the moments. In the distance, he heard a roar, deep and rumbling, rippling, through the fabric of reality. He rolled his eyes and started eating in earnest. With every bite he took, he could feel his magic returning, bumping against him, filling him again, making it easier for him to breathe, to be alive. It sparked and closed around him, anchoring him in the here. A sudden crash and running steps from the kitchen, made him tense all over again. But it was Hunk who suddenly appeared in the door and looked around with wild eyes until they settled in immediate recognition on him.

“You- you are…”

“A witch, as you are.” Keith smiled hesitantly.

Hunk gaped at him with an open mouth, seemingly confused. “How come-”

Keith smiled sadly. “I have run dry.”

“Dry.” Hunk blinked at him, not quite understanding.

“I was nearly completely depleted.” He shrugged. “You would need to be really sensitive to have felt that I’m a witch as well.” Hunk studied him, a spark suspicion in his eyes. That hurt.

“Why didn’t you say anything, if you saw that I was also a witch?” There was a bit of disappointment in his voice.

Keith sighed. “You do know, that some are not aware of their talents.” He tried his best puppy gaze. “Can you forgive me?” There was a beat of silence than Hunk started laughing, hard.

“And I thought you would mug me.” Keith just smiled. Hunk just shook his head and turned back into the kitchen. Keith got up and shuffled over, leaning himself against the door frame, watching Hunk dancing around the small space. The air was filled with the sweet smell of baking goods.

“If you are wondering about the infusion, I have a permit of the council.”

Keith just shrugged. “It’s no concern of mine.” He was curious. “Why did you choose this job?”

“I don’t have much magic. But I always had a passion for baking and cooking, it runs in the family.” Hunk paused in kneading the dough, his eyes for a moment lost in a distant memory. “I’m infusing food as long as I could remember. There was never a time I did not do it.”

Keith smiled softly at him. “You are adding your love to it.”

Hunk looked over his shoulder, a smattering of red high on his cheeks, but his smile pleased. “Yeah, something like that.” He shook himself and started kneading again. “So, what happened with you exactly?” His tone was just as curious.

Keith shrugged again, which Hunk couldn’t see. “Went overboard. Used already too much energy, before I even attempted the relocation. Rookie mistake. Even needed to tap into my physical strength to just to be able to stand. Got thrown out right into the alley.”

“You are fortunate.”

“That I am.” He ignored the roar in the distance. Keith waited. Hunk should- “Hunk?”

“Hm?” With deft fingers Hunk mixed even more ingredients together. His movements were precise and sure, but also gentle. The small smile never leaving his lips.

“How long have you been away from the mother realm?”

Hunk paused in what he was doing, and threw Keith a look, he could not quite read. “What exactly gave it away?” His smile suddenly tinged with sadness and melancholia.

Keith shrugged again, not quite looking at him. “Haven't heard any talk about a baker in the realm. But, it's I guess, more intuition. You do behave differently than witches who are from the realm.”

The smile turned more open but was still guarded. Hunk had finished mixing and kneading and was now rolling out the dough with fast movements. While cutting and twisting the new squares into form, he started talking again.

“It is true. My family left the realm a long time ago. We were never powerful. Just enough to ease the day by day work. They left in an uncertain time. When Zarkon took to the rise and the darkness was spreading, we had no means to help. Despite our cooking talent, we were a disaster with potions. We were no warriors, no scholars, just normal people with a knack for food. They never returned, I sometimes think out of shame. They wished they could have done more.”

“I’m glad. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here and able to help me.”

Hunk shrugged. “I, myself, only returned twice. To set the approval into motion and to have the hearing. Besides that, I was never there.” His shoulders hunched a bit, curving slightly inwards. Trying to make himself smaller. It is though for a witch to be always away, to be cut off the others and the magic of the realm. Did somebody who never knew it, feel the same?

“I’m sorry.”

Hunk looked him over. “Why-”

The jingle of keys broke him off. Keith turned to the left, the back door had opened, and there stood a lanky man with shocking orange hair and an impressive beard. His voice was booming through the shop.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Hunk laughed and poked his head alongside Keith’s out of the kitchen. “Hey Coran, we have a guest.”

The man, Coran, was bending slightly forward studying him for a moment. “Is that so? Even better. I need a helping hand. Come, guest, and follow me, time to work.” Keith just threw Hunk a bewildered look before he was dragged out. Hunk just winked at him.

 

* * *

 

  
That was the morning Keith met Coran and Hunk, the two owners of the Witch & Cat Coffee Shop and Bakery on a crisp spring morning. The shop became his very own calm space. Tucked away in the window seat furthest from the door, like the first time. Every time he came in the spot at the window was conveniently empty, Keith suspected Hunk had something to do with it. The baker would just shrug at his accusations and serve him another coffee. Keith would curl up, letting his head fall against the large window and track either the people outside or the clouds in the endless sky, waiting for the magic of the place seeped into him, soothing his ruffled nerves and stiff muscles. On the occasions when the shop was nearly empty, Hunk would stay, and they would gossip about the fragile state of some customer minds, Coran’s singing ability, the witch world in general. However, most of the times, Keith would just sit there, tucked away and let the world shift around him.

It was on an exceptionally sunny day in June, two months after he had found this new heaven, that things took a turn for the different. He arrived roughly around the same time as always and was about to turn to his corner, five steps to the left of the door before he suddenly stopped. It took him a moment to process, what he saw. It was occupied. A stranger, a tall, broad stranger, sat in his window seat. Reading comfortably, a steaming pot of something dark in front of him. Keith took another step into the direction, just to test if this was real and halted again, staring. Sensing the scrutiny, the stranger stopped his reading and looked up. An eyebrow wandered up in a silent question.

“You are sitting in my spot.” The other eyebrow in the perfectly sculptured face followed. Keith mentally shook himself. What was he talking about? This was not his spot. Just because he was always sitting there, did not mean he had any claim to it. The shop at this point in time was nearly empty, he could sit anywhere he damn wanted, even at a window. But it was just not the same. His day had been long and tiring, so long. Again he was running low, the relocation had taken another big chunk out of him, nearly more than he could give. He just wanted to sit the fuck down and eat some of Hunk’s amazing sandwiches, paired with a great cup of coffee. Getting some peace of mind to go along with it before he needed to return to face another even more tiring night.

Politics. Keith was so done with politics, and meetings; endless, pointless meetings. And this stranger was throwing a wrench in his so carefully laid out plans. Plans he was too exhausted to re-evaluate. But in the end…

He sighed and slumped. He raised a hand to massage his temples to stave off an oncoming headache. “I’m sorry. This- I will just sit somewhere else.” He turned but stumbled suddenly. Huh? Why was the floor abruptly so close? He crashed. Shit, he had done it again. He heard voices, running footsteps, warm flesh on him and cold metal? Then nothing.

  
He blinked awake. The room around him was dark and smelled musty. His eyes slowly adjusted to his surroundings. Shelves appeared out of the twilight. Rows and rows of stock. The small storage room beside the kitchen. Keith had seen it weeks ago when Coran had roped him into helping. He rolled on his side and found himself on a makeshift bed, out of cushions and blankets. Turning his head, a towel slipped away from the forehead. He raised his hand to take it. It was dry. He slowly set up and took a moment to groggily reorient himself. Taking a deep breath, he took stock of himself. Bit by bit did the memories return: the sudden wave of dizziness, the rushing to the floor, the stranger in his spot. He groaned, he had fainted in front of someone. A complete stranger. It should make him feel better, but it made it only worse. He felt his head, but there was just a slight bump at his left side. Mild pain lanced through him as he gently pressed against it, making him wince. Taking another breath, he tried to stand up. It took a few tries as his strength was still not at a level he liked. He sighed and crept forward with the utmost concentration. He pressed the door open, which was slightly ajar. The lights were dimmed, and he heard low murmurs. He scrunched his eyebrows.  
How late was it? His guess was probably later than he wanted. He needed to get back to Kolivan and Thace before they came searching for him. Every step he made got a bit easier, and the moment he rounded the corner, he was nearly completely steady again.

The small lamps over the bar had been left one, while the rest was already dark. It illuminated part of the room, creating a soft and intimate atmosphere. Hunk was standing behind the bar and chatting to the stranger with an ease that hinted at old friends. At the sound of his footsteps, they stopped and looked up, their faces showing various degrees of concern. Keith tried to smile and let himself slump down on one of the high stools.

Dragging a hand across his face, he sighed. “How long was I out?”

Hunk looked up at the clock behind them, thinking. “Four hours.”

Shit.

“Fuck.” He shook himself. He had intended to take a one hour break, and now he was behind on so much work. Politics. The next time Kolivan asked him if he wanted to do a job, he would politely decline with a rude gesture.

“How are you feeling?” The voice was not Hunk’s, it was a deeper rumble, pleasant, like a blanket. The Stranger.

Keith turned to him and smiled. “I need something to eat, a powerful coffee and a coffee to go.” The eyebrows of the stranger climbed up, but Hunk just snorted.

“One day, Keith, one day.” But he turned already to the machine behind him. A minute later he put the coffee in front of Keith before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Something specific?” Came the shout.

“Just what you have, Hunk. Don’t stress yourself out over it.”

The stranger chuckled. “He still will. He is Hunk.”

Keith shrugged. “I’m sorry for fainting on you.” He rubbed his neck. “It was a very long day.”

The other man smiled faintly shrugging the apology away. “I’m just glad nothing bad happened.” He extracted a hand, it gleamed in dark silver. “Shiro, my name is Shiro.”

Keith took it without blinking, the metal cold to his touch. He made a small wave with his head in the direction of the kitchen. “You have probably already heard it from the big fellow in there, but I’m Keith.”

Hunk took just the moment to reappear. “Make sure to thank Shiro properly. He carried you in the storage room and would only leave it, after I'd told him that you will be alright.”

Keith watched with some amazement redness spreading over Shiro’s face, just a smattering. It started on the upper part of his cheeks, slowly creeping down, to the edge of the jaw, disappearing and then reappearing down the neck.

“Hunk!” Came the outcry, but Keith just chuckled.

“Thank you, Shiro.” He said instead in a sing-song voice and threw him a sweet smile, before tearing into the sandwiches Hunk had brought with him. Slowly he felt his system booting up, magic filling him again, life returning to every cell of his being. He paused.  
“Hunk, this is better than ever?” The magic felt like a tidal wave suddenly crashing into him. It was beautiful. Never had he gotten his strength back faster. Hunk shrugged, like only Hunk could shrug, his special this-is-nothing-to-Talk-about-just-live-with-it-shrug.

“Just some extra special love.”  
Special. Keith put the sandwich down. “Hunk.”

“Keith.”

“Shiro.”

They both blinked at the same time, about the sudden intrusion of another voice. Both looked over. Shiro was grinning proudly from ear to ear. A beat of silence, then they chuckled and started laughing. Keith shook his head and took his sandwich up again. Nearly inhaling it. It was just gone. He threw Shiro another grin, who looked really impressed. “You really were hungry.”

“You have no idea.”

Hunk set the to-go-coffee in front of him, and Keith made to grab it before standing. Before he was able Hunk pushed it just out of his reach. Hunk grabbed his arm. Keith's eyes met the one of his friend. Was he a friend? The gaze was filled with concern. Keith looked down and sighed.

“Yes, I will get checked out.” Hunks gaze still bore into him. “I promise, mother.”

But Hunk did not rise to the bait and just nodded, letting go of the arm. “You better.” His voice was grave. “Or there will be no more sandwiches and even less coffee.” He nodded to himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Keith looked at him with horrified eyes. “You cruel, cruel man.”

“You have been warned.” He pushed the travel mug in Keith direction with a delicate finger.

Keith just rolled his eyes and took it, before he turned to Shiro. “It was nice meeting you.” With that he turned fully and in few steps was out the door. Standing in the fresh night air, he breathed in and out slowly. He still felt flustered about the whole incident. A smile flashed before his eyes. Out of curiosity, did he turn around again and met the gaze from Shiro straight on. Something sparked. In the distance was a roar, trembling through him and the realm, rattling his magic. He blinked and turned. Two doors down, he ducked in the same old alley. His fingers shook, he gripped the mug tighter. With a sudden heavy heart, he shifted. Finding himself in front of his home, he blinked for a moment. There was a difference, a subtle shift. Another roar, more a purr. He sighed. There was no time right now to analyze that. Putting it out of his mind, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and marched on. Work was waiting.

 


	2. Other side is calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever and always grateful to [cryptidkickflip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkickflip), awesome beta is awesome. Who also lets me gibbering on about other stuff xD ... 
> 
> I'm also so very thankful for the positive reactions, the kudos, and comments, you are all the best. I hope I do it justice.

The sudden tingle in his fingertips was unwelcome. It spread over his hand along his arm to the shoulder. Keith tried to shake his arm out, but it stayed. He set the pencil down and waited. Minutes rolled together until the feeling subsided. That was not good. He finally needed to admit that he was not well. But doing that also meant another thing, going in search of a healer. And there was only one person he trusted enough to take a look at him. He was unsure if the to be expected taunting or silent suffering instead was the safer mental choice.

The start of a new tingle made the decision for him.

He got up and put his jacket on. Hovering in the door, he waited another moment, hoping the tingle would just go away, but it kept a steady presence. Fatigue gripped him, made him feel sort of out of it. There was a suspicion, he knew what was happening, but he was so not ready to acknowledge it. He bowed his head to let another tingle run its course, before taking up the short walk to the healer tract.

With some trepidation did he stop in front of a deep blue door inlaid with a red floral pattern. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. A distracted voice called him in. He pressed the handle down, and after walking through closed the door softly behind him, leaning against it with slow deliberate movements. The tingles never went away. He exhaled slowly, before finding his voice. “Lance, can we talk?”

The lanky figure of his friend leaning over a cauldron stopped drizzling a substance in a thick vapor of colorful clouds, before slowly turning around, propping the hip against his working table. Behind him, the cauldron was happily bubbling away, puffing now and then. “Look what the cat has dragged in.” There was a pointed look.

Keith scowled. Maybe he had been away more than he had thought. He crossed his arms. “I’m not in the mood.”

Lance smile was a tad too sharp. “You never are, asshole.”

Keith shrugged at that, the first tendrils of a headache slowly crawling through his head. There was still too much paperwork to go through, accompanied by a healthy dose of red tape. The council was a kindergarten and Kolivan was no help at all. He just wanted to return to the shop and find peace. He just wanted- A sudden flash, something he could not quite grasp, a memory, a vision? He shook his head. He needed to concentrate. He had promised Hunk after all. Hunk seemed like a man who would go through with his threats. Keith sighed.

“Just be serious for once.” Slumping against the door, he felt so tired again. Something must have shown on his face because Lance was suddenly looking at him all professional.

“What’s up?” It was his healer voice, soothing and stern.

“Just, I’m easily tired, relocations take everything from me.”

Lance was trying to parse that answer, blinking rapidly. He threw a spell behind him, making the cauldron quite down. “What are you not telling me?” The tone was accusing, Lance's eyes narrowed at him.

Keith bit his lip and looked away, tracing the many jars and bottles along the wall, neatly lined up in row after row, labeled in Lance’s surprisingly precise penmanship. He would not escape this. “I fainted twice.”

“Keith.” There was worry in his words and his gaze.

“Just, fuck, get it over with.” He pressed the nails of his fingers into his arms, the pain distracting him from the tingles, from what he saw in the face of his best friend. What he always saw in the faces around him, sadness and worry. It made him want to throw up. He was not fragile or different or strange, he was a freaking normal witch named Keith.

“There is more.”

Fuck Lance and his perception. “I don’t sleep.” And no eating, besides Hunks food, but that was better left alone.

Lance blinked at him again. “Just fainting.”

“Just examine me, and let's get over with it.” Keith patience was running out, fast. Lance answered with a long-suffering sigh, but at the same time, he raised his hands and wove a complicated spell. It activated the tattoos on the arms of his friend and around the neck one after another. Some shone, some flickered, some pulsed once. After releasing it, the spellwork glittered in the air between them before exploding into tiny stars. They made their way over to Keith, dancing around him, settling in a cloud, with him as the center. It was gentle and soft, with a bit of a hesitant touch, waiting for him to open up. It was Lance’s particular brand of magic, exactly what made him such an excellent healer. Slowly the spell swirled around Keith, engaging, coaxing out of him what was wrong. A gentle touch here and there, in his mind, his heart and deep in his soul and the very essence of his magic. Keith let go. After what appeared to be an eternity, it started to fade away. When the last star twinkled for the last time at him, before disappearing in a little shower of sparks, he looked expectantly at Lance, who just shook his head, his eyes filled with- fuck.

“You will need new seals.” Keith furrowed his brows. The last set of seals had been tattooed onto him only months ago.

“Again?” Lance just kept on looking and nodded.

Keith had not wanted it to be true. But Lance was never wrong in this kind of things, and he had felt it as well. The symptoms matching up, with what he had experienced in the past. “How bad is it?”

“Bad, that’s why you are tiring so easily.” Fucking great.

  
Ulaz’ small nearly mouse-like face showed only a hint of surprise. It had taken Keith a long time, to learn to decipher the many small muscle jumps in the faces of the old gang, the four leaders of the battle witches, Ulaz, Thace, Antok, and Kolivan. The old group, wise and battle-hardened in wars that had been fought a long time ago. Every battle witch looked up to them, still did. The four had taught him everything he needed to know. How to be a leader, a fighter, a carer. They made him the man he was today.

A long time ago, it had been Ulaz who had figured out what was going on. The Keith who never had any trouble to learn, who read and read and retain the knowledge with frightening accuracy, was also a Keith whose spellwork always went haywire. His class comrades even accused him of manipulation, of causing the accidents because he sought the attention. Even Kolivan, who had always been patient with him, had been slowly losing his understanding. After one especially disastrous session, where Kolivan had shouted at him for not obeying, Keith had run away into the gardens, deep into the tree grove. It was Ulaz who had found him there, watching with a strange glint in his eyes the tiny light figures dancing around the young witch. Before sitting down alongside him.

“How do you do that?” Ulaz had been fascinated. The figures looked fragile, made from pure light, with tiny wings. They had not quite the form of butterflies or faeries, but something more like dancing stars would probably look if they had wings.

Keith had shrugged his small shoulders, his eyes enrapt following the silvery lights, fluttering around, poking them with his tiny fingers. When he connected with them, they disappeared in a sparkly cloud and to the sound of a small bell. “I wiggle my fingers, and there they are.” With every wriggle he did as an example new figures appeared, falling into the same soft rhythm.

Ulaz had looked at him then the same way he looked at him now, a crazy mix of disbelief and reverence. “No spell, eh?” Oh so young Keith had just nodded, not knowing what his answer would lead to. “Say, Keith, what happens when you cast a spell?” Ulaz’ tone had been playful, but also pain and worry had bled into it, but young Keith, did not know that difference in tone yet. So in his kid-like ignorance, he had answered as honestly as possible.

He had blinked against the small creatures, trying to get his thoughts together. He had felt tired, the same tiredness that claimed him now. “There is a tide, always coming and going. Sometimes, when I call it, it comes, eager, like a puppy. Nearly overwhelming me, with all the magic. Other times, it wanders out of my grasp, slipping away between my fingers, like water, and sometimes it’s not even coming at all.” He had yawned, the eyes small and rapidly blinking. “And it always leaves me so tired.” He had slowly sunken down and curled up beside Ulaz. Soon he had fallen into a deep sleep with a steady breath. The light figures had kept on dancing, following a rhythm only Keith could hear. Glittering in the sun rays that broke through the canopy of leaves. They had danced as one, following the breathing of a young boy. That was how Kolivan found them, hours later. Ulaz and he had shared a pained expression. A few days later they had sat Keith down and with grave faces talked to him, about how his magic was different, about how he was bound to the realm in a very complicated way. Usually, the witch took from the realm what was needed to craft a spell. It was connected to how much the witch could hold at once. The tattooing of spells and runes helped to keep more and have spells ready faster. But Keith did not take; the realm feeds into him. This created a problem, as the domain was always shifting, it disrupted the feed and Keith could not keep steady spellwork. As a solution, they gave him seals, stamp-like circles wandering along his vertebrae interconnecting along the way with a complex network of spells and signs on his skin, to help him control the push of magic and to negotiate the realms tendency to push more than he was able to hold. But it was not a permanent solution, as he was growing, and his magic was evolving. So was the realm pushing and pushing to prepare him, from time to time that push became too much, like at the day in the grove.

The memory came unbidden as he set down in front of Ulaz.

“Again?” There was disbelief in Ulaz’ eyes, and more; fear, sadness, and rage. Keith sighed tiredly and gave him the message from Lance. The witch took it, murmuring. “The last seal is barely four months old.”

Keith laid his underarms down on the table between them and hung his head. “I already fainted twice. We need another one.”

Ulaz hesitated. “Does Kolivan know?” Keith turned his head away. Ulaz reached forward and took hold of his chin, with gentle pressure he forced him to look him in the eyes again. “He needs to know.”

The fight went out of Keith. “I know that, but-” His Uncle had already so much going on, Ulaz smiled thinly.

“He is strong, he will cope.” With another pointed look, Ulaz got up and collected the tools he would need. Putting the seal and the ink down on a low table to the side, he looked over at Keith. “How long do you have?”

Keith had begun disrobing. He carefully folded his cape, the jacket, and the shirt, before laying down on the comfy blankets and cushions that were part of Ulaz’ room. Ulaz did not share the austerity of other battle witches. His place was warm and comfy. As he loved sitting on the floor, blankets and pillows were thrown everywhere. Burning incense gave the room a smoky, earthy smell. It clung to Keith, making him drowsy.

“We are still not quite sure.” He tracked Ulaz with half-lidded eyes, as he laid his head down. “Currently it is stable enough, and I can hear the roar only when the lions try to annoy me.”

Ulaz turned to him. “Roar?” There was still a concern in his voice, but Keith just smiled and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, a roar.” He mumbled. “A reminder that they are still there. That they are still waiting.” It always made him feel connected, welcome. Even if it was annoying at times, he treasured it. They answered with a sound that could have been a laugh.

Ulaz huffed. “That, they certainly do.” He took the seals and the ink and crossed over to Keith. He studied the short message again, before sitting down besides Keith’s half-naked form. “Lance wrote two seals.”

Keith hummed and cracked an eye open. There was a pause while he licked his lips, for a moment he was torn than he exhaled. “Make it three.”

Ulaz blinked slowly, thinking. “It would be three seals at once.” There was no emotion in his voice.

“I know.” It will hurt, badly. So badly.

Ulaz sighed, gripping the seal tighter. “I will do it if you tell Kolivan.”

Keith regarded him for a moment, then closed his eyes and wiggled the fingers of the right hand into the direction of the door, a spark floated and vanished. One minute, two minutes and suddenly they could hear running footsteps outside. The door crashed open.

Ulaz gazed down at Keith, who had still one eye open. “What did you tell him exactly?” But there was amusement, Keith winked at him.

Kolivan watched them for a moment. His eyes switched from Keith’s half-naked form to the gleaming seal in Ulaz hands. He exhaled. He got himself under control and closed the door with a wave of a hand, before crossing the room and sinking down besides Ulaz, laying a hand on Keith's neck in a comforting gesture.

“Another?” Keith kept silent. “Since when?” Did the symptoms return?

“Three weeks.” He finally answered.

“Keith.” There was a heavy pause.

“Two months.” A whisper in the space between them.

“Idiot.” Said Ulaz.

Keith shrugged, as well as he could in his position. “Just hold me down.”

“Keith.” The voice was stern, controlling.

“I know my name.” There was the stubbornness. A trace of anger. Kolivan inhaled sharply, but his hands on Keith were gentle and firm. Another pause.

“I will be starting.” Ulaz' voice was quiet and carefully neutral again. Keith nodded and closed his eyes.

Slowly, like he needed to remember first, started Ulaz talking in the ancient language. Not one of the witches, but an even older one, going deeper, directly connected to the realm. With every syllable that left his mouth, his voice gained confidence, speaking louder, more profound, the word clearer, penetrating that what was around them, crawling over their bones, connecting, anchoring, opening. Light flickered behind Keith’s eyes. He forced himself to relax, molding himself to the blankets under him. Just as he was about to fall into a trance, came the seals. The first stung, grabbing onto him, connecting into the web of the other spells and seals. Linking into the realm itself. It was like a burn, the feeling of too much heat he could not escape from. He exhaled and inhaled manually, deep and measured. The second seal hurt, like a flesh wound gained in a battle, sharply pushed into him. Kolivan’s hand put more pressure on his neck, securing him in the place. His body already protesting. There was a brief moment of silence, then Ulaz pressed the third seal down.

Keith screamed.

The aftershock rippled through his body and his mind, sealing even more, ripping it away from him and securing it with a heavy lock. He imagined this was what the searing off a limb must feel like at least. Kolivan’s fingers began to hurt him, his whole skin burned. Keith tried to wriggle away, but it was not over yet, Kolivan held on. Wave after wave shook through him and after a few more minutes of pure agony, darkness finally took him.

Kolivan gently cared his fingers through the soft hair of his nephew. Now, being able to study the stupid boy, he could see the pale skin and the dark shapes under his eyes.

“How long does he still have?”

Ulaz laid a cold towel over Keith’s forehead. They could feel him relax, the breathe evening out. “I’m not really sure. He said the realm is currently stable enough. But there is always the chance that it will accelerate.” Kolivan hummed in acknowledgment. “The last one was the twelfth seal.”

Kolivan looked up, surprised. “I thought we were still at seven.”

Ulaz rolled his eyes, before answering. “Keith, apparently, does not understand what ‘keeping you posted’ means.”

Kolivan shook his head. “Pest.”

The other witch smiled sadly. “He seems different these days.” Kolivan regarded him with an arched eyebrow. “Oh, still sullen, but like he found his place. He has grown so much in the last centuries, become a leader, Krolia would have been so proud.”

Kolivan looked down again. “Yeah.” He saw so much of his half-sister in Keith. The same fire, the same closed off persona that hid a too-caring heart. Always going for what they felt was right, regardless of the consequences. Keith would never run from his duty, whatever happened in the future. Still, deep in his heart, the leader of the battle witches felt uneasy.

Still, he felt a growing sadness.

  
Laying on his side, Keith slowly came awake. Dimmed light greeted him. As he felt the slight burn on his back, the slight nauseating feeling in his throat and the heavy incense in the air, he knew everything he needed to know. The lions whimpered; they didn’t like it when he was injured. Their precious little witch. There were even days when he could think that without any sarcasm. He could hear a huff, laughter, and then the lions were silent.

“How are you feeling?” It was not Ulaz like he expected, but Kolivan who still set by his side, looking up from a book in his hand.

“Same, different. Pieces are missing from me.”

Kolivan closed the book and set it down. His eyes were drilling into his very soul. That was playing dirty, nobody could withstand that scrutiny. “How long?”

A hint of steel in the voice, Keith would only escape him with the truth. “A year, maybe a year and a half, give or take.”

Kolivan was thinking, Keith could see it in the way he got utterly still. “Will the seals be enough?”

Keith just shrugged. “They have to be.”

Kolivan scrunched his brows together. “You could always go now.”

There was a dull roar in his ears. No. No, they would not be happy about that. It was too early. Something was still waiting for him outside. The roar faded. Keith blinked.

A spark. Grey eyes. An easy smile. A flutter.

“No.” Kolivan lifted an eyebrow at the resolute tone. “It’s not the right time. They will know when I need to come. If I go too early, I will be the one who breaks the balance.”

Kolivan watched him, studied him for a moment, as if he was searching for something; what exactly, Keith could not fathom.

Broad shoulders. A scar across a face. Why?

His brain felt messed up.

“Go back to sleep.” The voice was soft, as was the gaze. It descended like a spell on him. Automatically closed Keith his eyes, fingers threading carefully through his hair. The last time Kolivan had stroked him, as far as he could remember, was when he had been a tiny witch. Antok had been the more physical one. A hug, a touch, a hair ruffle. Sitting at his side and stroking him, when he had been sick or hurt, or woken from a nightmare. Keith pressed his eyes together. Forcing the words out through the sudden choking of his throat.

“I miss him.”

The fingers never stopped.

“Me too, kit, me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are my life (well not really, but they help from time to time, screw that they are life). Find me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/sparklefly2).


	3. Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cryptidkickflip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkickflip) owns me, like seriously. I wish I could send you cake and pizza ;A;
> 
> Also I'm very blown away by the comments and kudos, I love you all.
> 
> And yeah, slow burn is slow... Sorry, not sorry.

 

It took a week until Lance deemed Keith fit enough to leave the realm again. The news made him sigh with relief. Two days into his rest, he had felt cooped up, only allowed to do some “light” paperwork as Lance had called it. He did love his friend dearly, but having him around all the time was grating on his nerves. The minute Lance declared him healthy again and left him blissfully alone, Keith relocated into the realm of the mortals and went straight to Hunk and Coran’s shop.

Just as he crossed the threshold, he felt the calmness settle around him. The magic of the shop welcomed him in, probing him gently in a curious gesture because he was different, tingling along his skin, settling as a secure blanket. He smiled, as it enveloped him.

Hunk threw him a long hard look as he stepped to the bar, ready to order his coffee. The witch crossed his arms, holding back until Keith had spoken.

Keith smiled. “Everything is fine. Please don’t hold the coffee prisoner any longer.” He may have also whimpered a bit to the end.

Hunk studied him a second longer, but he must have looked rested enough because Hunk shook his head and smiled. “Just go away. Sit down, you rascal.” Keith smiled gratefully and plopped down into his window seat. He contemplated getting a book from the shelves when a voice spoke up.

“This is my spot.” Shiro stood at the table. He had a blinding smile on his lips, his eyes dancing with amusement. His posture was loose and open.

Keith chuckled. “I can make room for you.” Not waiting for an answer, he scooted to the side and drew his legs into a cross seat. Shiro hummed and sat down. For a few moments they each watched the bustling shop.

“Feeling better again?” Keith looked over; Shiro was still watching the people, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes.

Keith could feel his cheeks reddening. “Yeah. Hunk convinced me to see a specialist. Some adjustments and here I’m right as rain.”

“I’m glad.” There was an answering blush on Shiro’s cheeks, but he would still not turn his head until he did. The smile on Shiro’s face gave nothing away.

Another spark. Keith could feel it zipping through him. His magic reacted, faint glitter danced in the sun rays that broke at Shiro’s back. He swallowed and looked away, tracking Hunk’s deft movements. “You are?” He mumbled instead. His eyes slid back to watch his seat neighbor.

Shiro's smile morphed into something different, impossibly softer. He cleared his throat, casting his eyes to the side for a moment, before looking down at his hands, Keith could see the metal of his right gleaming in the sunlight. “Maybe this is presumptuous of me, but- but maybe I could get your number?” Shiro paused, looking up again. “I’d like to get to know you better.” The blush deepened, spreading over the cheeks, spilling over the jaw, down the throat to the neck. Keith hesitated. Shiro raised his hands.

“Sorry, I- I’m a stranger, that was creepy, I understand, I-” He moved to get up.

“Wait.” Keith grabbed him by the arm. Shiro stopped, half risen, looking at him, waiting. Hunk chose the moment to set two coffee cups in front of them, mindless of the suddenly thick air around them. Keith looked away, letting the arm go. Shiro settled back down, looking at him with the utmost attention.

Keith looked at the coffee cup, not making a move for it. “I don’t have a phone,” he mumbled, scratching his neck, feeling embarrassed.

“You don’t?” The question was uttered in stereo, followed by twin surprised faces.

That annoyed Keith. “They don’t work out for me. They always stop working.” He mumbled his answer, looking away.

“You-” But whatever Hunk wanted to say was aborted, and he just threw Keith a strangled look, the other caught from the corner of his eyes. There was a sudden glint in his eyes. Uh oh. Keith met him head on, well, Hunk was a fellow witch, he straight on knew what Keith was talking about.

“Oh.” Shiro was looking at him, clearly thinking. His eyelids fluttered a bit as if he was running different scenarios at the same time. “What about email?”

Keith shook his head. “It’s all devices that rely on electricity.” His voice was now nearly a whisper, clenching his fingers together. He felt a sudden wave of sadness sweeping through him.

“All devices?” Hunk studied him, the glint was now more profound. He knew. Shit.

Keith calmed himself, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I have a friend, a tech wi- wiz, she has banned me from her lab for life. She also promised me to murder me if I as much as breathe into the direction of one of her babies.” Shiro chuckled. There was another spark. It glittered again in the sunlight. His heart clenched.

“I’m sorry, Shiro.” He really was. Shiro seemed like someone he would have liked to get to know better. Funny, caring. Gorgeous. That spark, he would miss that spark. But Shiro looked not quite relieved, but contemplative as if this was not yet the end.

“We will find a way.” A promise, a vow spoken so earnest, that a shiver ran down Keith's spine. There was a soft rumble, a tiny vibration between them, dancing. Not a spark, something else. He blinked, and it was gone.

* * *

 

Keith was distracted. That as much Lance could tell. Any typical day their Leader (yes, with a capital L) would watch the speaker with defiance, his brows scrunched tight, an earnest look on his face. He would take notes in that chicken scratch of his and fire rapid questions at the poor presenter until he was satisfied or the other had crumbled. Today, he let the speaker taper out, without any outward reaction that he had heard anything. Any typical day Protok would by now quaking in his boots because his insane request was torn to pieces, to tiny, very tiny pieces. But Keith only blinked once, twice, slid his eyes over and just said one word.

“No.”

Protok was too surprised to protest and promptly sat down, his eyelids fluttering nervously. Keith rose. Lance studied him, there was a fragility in his whole posture. “If there is no other pressing matter, the council is closed.” Only silence answered. Keith swept his gaze over them, before walking out of the room. Lance saw Kolivan throw him a look, like 'The Look,' before his eyes slide over to where Keith had left. His brows furrowed slightly in a silent question. Lance nodded at him and rose. Something was not right; maybe it was the seals acting up, which wouldn’t be the first time. But Lance could not say why, but he had the strong feeling that something else was going on. A memory from another time nudged into his mind. Hopefully he was wrong.

Lance walked briskly through the study door and found his friend standing at the big windows overlooking the grounds. There was a storm brewing. That him stop in the middle of the room. The weather in the mother realm was on an average day on point, sunny, not too hot, not too cold, perfect. But today was not a typical day.

Today, everything was different.

Keith did not acknowledge him. So Lance did was he always did; he took it as an open invitation. He crossed the rest of the room and settled into one of the plush chairs, part of the seating group that stood opposite from Keith’s desk. Lance waited. They had played this game many times, and it was always Keith who broke first. This time it took him exactly three minutes.

“Knock it off, Lance.” Lance just raised an eyebrow in silent question. Keith turned around and looked pointedly at him, a harsh glint in his eyes. A storm brewing. “Call the monitoring spell off.”

Lance wiggled his fingers that resulted in a little puffing sound. “You do seem off today.”

Keith huffed. “Just because I’m tired of arguing with Protok, does not mean I’m off.” He turned his head back again. Dark clouds were still gathering, rolling over the sky. It was getting darker by the minute.

“You love to argue with Protok. It’s your form of letting off some steam.” Lance pointed out smugly.

Keith shrugged. “Sometimes, I just have enough.”

Lance studied him closer. He looked better; not as pale as weeks before, the shadows under the eyes were gone, the tiredness had vanished from his eyes. But it was now replaced by a new kind of desperation. “There is a storm coming.”

It jerked Keith’s head around then he turned and looked outside. He went pale and collapsed into himself, catching himself with his hands against the glass.

“Fucking realm.” It was just a mumble, which Lance only caught by chance. Keith stood there silent, before turning anew and finally making his way over. He sat down in the opposite chair. Every line in his body was screaming defeat. But about what?

“Just ask your inane questions, so that you can report back to Kolivan.” That was an unfair jab. Lance took it with grace and remained silent. His friend behaved like a cornered animal, ready to lash out at anything that was moving. The best strategy was again to wait. Keith ran hot, ready to boil over, but he calmed down just as fast, most of the time falling into himself. Keith sunk deeper into the chair and looked to the side, there was a faint redness spreading on is cheeks, a sure sign of his embarrassment. “That was uncalled for. I’m sorry. It’s just-” He paused, his gaze roaming through the room, never stopping on anything, the hands tapping a fast rhythm on the chair arm.

“You do know I’m your friend first and foremost.” It was a cross between a statement and a question. He raised an eyebrow for good measure. He was making a damn point.

Keith looked down and smiled. “Yes, I know.”

“So tell me, what is going on?”, Lance asked finally. He moved his upper body forward, laying his arms on his thighs giving his leader and friend his complete attention. Out of his periphery, he could see the twisting of the clouds, still wandering close, blocking out the sun. The room had gotten dark. Shadows crawled along the walls. He could see them withering, hear them whispering. Keith was losing the hold on himself. His eyes shone in a faint yellow hue, his skin getting darker by the second. He was transforming, wisps of dark smoke around him, the fingertips shaping claws.

“Get a grip, Kogane.” And just like that, it was gone. The shadows vanished, and Keith was Keith again. Or whatever he currently was. The twilight remained as the storm clouds did not stop gathering.

Keith's shoulders slumped down. “Will you believe me, if I tell you, that I don’t really know what exactly is happening?” It was accompanied by an confused smile.

Lance shrugged. “Maybe.” He hummed in thought. “Is it the seals?”

“Yes. No.” Keith sighed and leaned against the back of the chair. He licked his lips, clearly gathering his thoughts. “I think, it’s-” A sigh. “It’s more the generality of it, of everything.” The voice echoed around them.

Lance saw a sudden spark in Keith’s eyes, the same one he had seen once before, a lifetime ago. A spark that generated a hunger. It created a terrible storm, that could lay waste to the world. Once, it nearly did. The darkness was gathering behind Keith, waiting to break loose. His gaze was daring Lance to dig deeper, itching for a fight, for an outlet to whatever was going on. He would not rise to the bait, but he also knew that this was everything he would be able to gain from Keith.

“Whatever it is, at least get the weather back under control, or Kolivan will be on to you.” He said instead with a pointed look.

Keith shrugged, his smile had too much teeth. “Yes, sir.”

Lance shook his head, stood up and after another long look, turned to go. He stopped at the door. “Oh, and you have guard duty.” He smiled as he heard Keith curse.

* * *

  
Keith kept to the shadows. Melting from one darkness to another, skirting the light, walking that thin line between being there and not. The dark was a formidable foe. He heard the snarling, felt their rotten energy the moment he had set foot into the realm. He slipped through a group of giggling women, barely old enough to drink alcohol, and followed the growling noises to a park fully shrouded in darkness. He was not a fan of guard duty. Hunting the creatures down left a bitter taste in his mouth, ash laden. He danced around a middle-aged man, just standing in the middle of the way and looking at the stars. It made Keith remember his father and the desert and the beauty of the Milky Way deep at night. The memory hurt.  
But he had a duty, even if he despised it. The creatures were a part of the realms the same way he was, and every time he eliminated one, it felt like he was killing a part of himself. There was a peal of faint laughter in his ear, a whispering voice, “precious boy” dissipating with the wind. He shrugged it away. This was not the time to get distracted; a mistake could get him killed.

He centered himself. With a whispered word he activated the spells embedded on his skin, let his form shift and began the hunt. Running with the shadows and bringing down what lurked inside.

 

A sudden wave of exhaustion made him stagger. Keeping the shadows around him was becoming increasingly difficult. Keith paused on his way to take a deep breath. The sun was already rising; the hunt had taken hours. He thought about making a detour to Hunk’s, but nobody should see him this way. Hunk also ready knew the extent of his powers, but showing him the glowing crown over his head was just asking for it. And the sharp teeth, the claw-like hands, the shining eyes, the midnight lilac skin. He was a monster. The hunt always brought out the other side in them, one he could now barely contain. It was dangerous to go full battle witch; going over the edge had dire consequences. Keith swallowed, he had seen those first-hand. God, he wanted to lay down, but there was one still on the loose, one had slipped away, one could harm.

A scream pierced the air. Keith fell into a sprint, barely touching the mortals as they crossed the darkness between the streetlamps. He rounded a corner into a dark alley and skidded to a halt. A mortal woman brandished her bag to keep the nightmarish creature away, going against its glowing eyes and fur of blackness, the awful smell, and pitiful sounds. Every time the bag hit it, it would only turn to smoke and materialize again and again. The woman snarled; she seemed more angry than scared. Still, Keith knew she would not stand a chance. So while both were distracted, he drew his sword and drove the weapon home. The creature let out a shriek that pained Keith soul and the shadow dissolved, forever. The woman stopped, breathing heavily. Her massive nearly white hair flowing behind her, her dark skin appearing even deeper colored in the semi-darkness around them. She was watching him, probably deciding if he was friend or foe.

“Who are you?”

Keith blinked. Everyone who had seen him in this form never believed that they saw right. They ignored, forgot, added a human where only had been shadows and claws and shifting darkness. And they absolutely never ever talked to him. He cocked his head to the side, slowly looking her up and down. Was she a witch? But no, her magic was different, more mortal and not entirely. He blinked. And vanished.

  
Allura huffed and picked the bag up she had let fall to the ground as the whatever it was had dissolved into thin air. She found it quite rude that her helper had just gone without saying anything or even offer a word of comfort. She patted down her dress, making sure nothing had become dirty and combed her hands through her hair to make it sit right again. She turned around once, but everything seemed to be in order.

That whatever it was had surprised her, the scream she had let out made her now embarrassed. It had not been the first time in her life she encountered strange beings or happenings. Her father was a strange man who hunted even more bizarre things, so she should not have reacted in this way. It was not becoming of a university professor of her caliber. She threw a look at the clock on a nearby church and cursed the encounter had made her late to her meeting. She hated being late, it made her look unprofessional and threw a bad light on the department and her tenure.

She tried to get the whatever out of her mind, but it would not let go. Always returning to the point of a sword poking through it in front of her eyes, the high shriek and the bright violet eyes in a dark figure made out of shadows and tiny glittering lights, like stars, a golden crown, burned in her retinas. She tried to remember if her father ever wrote about anything that would compare, but she drew a blank. She would need to ask him.

Allura picked up her pace and let the body guide her through the usual way to work. She stopped at the doors to the main entrance of the university. The person she wanted to meet with was already waiting, throwing her a blinding smile.

“Hi, Shiro.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are my life (well not really, but the help from time to time). Find me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/sparklefly2).


	4. Facing north

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always and forever grateful to [cryptidkickflip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkickflip), who got swamped at work, but still lets me prattle one about things via DM. This time I needed to fight the commas and grammar mistakes all on my own... I barely survived. Just barely. 
> 
> We are closing in on the end... Please enjoy

“Keith.” It was the first word that greeted him as he stepped up to the bar to order.

“Hunk?” Keith was watching him with suspicion in his eyes. Was he on a coffee ban again?

But Hunk smiled with a freaking twinkle in his eyes and said, “I have a letter for you.”

Keith made a funny expression. “A what?” he asked with disbelief.

Hunk’s face morphed into a brilliant smile. “From Shiro.” As if that explained everything.

Keith watched the sudden glint in Hunk’s unfolding with trepidation. He blinked first at Hunk than at the letter the baker now laid down alongside his usual coffee. ‘ _Keith_ ’ Shiro had written in neat, straight letters across the front of the envelope. The stationary was a soft cream color and looked expensive. Heavy, refined. He blinked up again at Hunk, who walked away, smiling, serving more coffee to the patrons. As Keith studied the letter again, a memory blossomed inside him: “We will find a way.” Deep inside him, something else danced into life. He settled down at his usual place, exhaling before reaching for the message. With a touch of his fingers, the flap opened right away. He untucked the folded page, filled with neat black handwriting.

_Keith,_  
_As I promised you, I will find a way. And while this may seem old-fashioned, it holds a special meaning for me. I haven’t written a letter in a long time. The last I sent out years ago to my grandparents before they passed away. Nothing special, a few lines about ordinary, unremarkable things, but these sentences, this last letter stayed with me. I remember their joy in receiving it, the excited voices over the phone, prattling on and on about it._

_I hope this is enough for you._

_If my tone strikes you as too formal tone, it’s because I’m nervous to say, no, to write the wrong thing._

_I want to get to know you. So please ask me anything you’d like to know or tell me, anything you would like to talk about. And I also hope I’m not too forward with this all. While you did not seem against talking or giving out your number, you might have changed your mind in between. So please, don’t be pressured in answering back. I will understand._

_So, yeah, if inclined, I’m looking forward to hearing from you._

_Yours,_  
_Shiro_

Keith folded the letter again with careful movements and slid it back into the envelope. He laid the letter in front of him and smoothed down the pristine paper. There was another tiny flutter inside him. Like the beating wings of a small bird, it coursed through him and elevated his heart. He could picture Shiro, hesitant and blushing while he wrote, considerate enough to give him an out. It was gentle. Keith looked at it for another moment before throwing a glance through the shop, but nobody paid him any attention. He clicked his fingers once, twice, and there was a shift in the air. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Hunk looking over a curious gaze on his face, Keith winked at him. He looked at the sheet of paper, envelope, and an old-fashioned fountain pen that had appeared next to his coffee cup. Hunk rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Keith got to work.

_Shiro,_

_writing letters is something I genuinely enjoy. It partly stems from my limitations with modern technology, but it also allows me to consider my words, to rethink and retrace what I have written, and to truly convey my feelings, which I have trouble with when I talk. My colleagues say I’m too honest, too blunt. It has me gotten into trouble fairly often._

_I want to learn, who you are, I’m not entirely sure why, but you seem approachable… So tell me…_

He brooded hours over the words, erasing whole paragraphs and tearing his hair out bit by bit, but he finished the letter with feeling accomplished. He sealed the message in a freshly conjured fire red envelope before sliding it over to Hunk, who took it with a soft smile.

“Dorks.” Was all he said. Keith shrugged his shoulders, and after a quick glimpse around, blinked away. “And also a show-off.” Hunk left to the empty air.

The courtship as Hunk would tell Coran on a slow day was taking weeks. They both would stand behind the bar and watch their strange kind of mating dance. On occasion, they would meet at the same time and sit for hours talking, while the world shifted around them. Other times, they missed each other by a few minutes. Hunk always needed to swallow the soft sound he was about to make because they both looked like a kicked puppy when he told them.

_“Approachable? Ouch, this is a harsh word. I hope I did not give you the wrong impression…”_

_“Shiro, I apologize, it seems even on paper, I can’t convey what I think, it was the only word I had found that fitted, but not quite…”_

_“Poor Kolivan, I’m not certain, I would have handled it the same way, but you sound like you have been a handful as a child…”_

_“Oh, those stories were nothing, another time me and Lance…”_

_“Did I ever tell you about my parents? They…”_

_“My mother had been gone before I could remember her. It had been Dad and me until…”_

_“I’m sorry you had to go through that. Every loose is deeply personal, so I will not pretend I understand what you went through, but I have an incline…”_

_“God, Shiro I would never presume that you did not understand. You have lost so much more…”_

_“Please, don’t apologize. Tragedy shapes us in different ways. We all handle things differently.”_

_“Trust…”_

_“Feelings…”_

_“I don’t know why…”_

* * *

 

“Spill.” Shiro looked up from the book he was reading and stopped the food right in front of his mouth. He blinked. His face must have conveyed his utter confusion because Allura sat her tablet down and huffed. “You are in an excellent mood, besides having to sit through another presentation of Professor Slav about the state of the science department. I haven’t seen you so disgustingly happy since-” She stopped herself.

Shiro swallowed and smiled. “I will not fall to pieces if you say his name. It was a long time ago,” he said with ease.

Allura crossed her arms. “Not that long.” Shiro put down the fork and closed the book before he shrugged. She shook her head and sat down. “Well, since Adam.” She finally relented. It did not stop her from studying him. “Did you get laid?” she asked out of the blue.

Shiro chocked. He fumbled for his water glass to get his breathing back under control. “You spent too much time with Matt.” He wheezed out, before taking another swallow. Allura shrugged her shoulders with no care. “And no,” he said, coughing a little. “I did not get laid, as you so eloquently put it.” Allura hummed, while delicately spearing a potato on her fork. The past had taught her that all she needed to do was to wait. Shiro was that weak and would spill everything. “But, I met someone.”

“I knew it.” Her smile was smug. “So, spill.”

Shiro sighed. “It’s like a bad rom-com? I mean, he nearly fainted in my arms.”

“Nearly?” There was a curious spark in her eyes.

Shiro shrugged. “He was too far away and crumbled to the ground.”

Allura shook her head. “Only you Shirogane, only you,” she said, before taking a small bite from her potato.

Shiro poked his food with a soft smile, propping his head up on his left arm. In for a penny… “We are writing letters.”

She stopped eating and drew up her eyebrows. “That’s… romantic?” Shiro chuckled. “I mean, is he a nerd who doesn’t believe in giving out his number; too paranoid?” She made a vague wave with her hand.

“Don’t let Matt hear you, or even better Pidge.” They both paused and shuddered. The Holt siblings did not take it very well when somebody mocked technology or geekiness. “No, he has none, he fries them. Also computers, all electronic things.”

Allura hummed thoughtfully. “That seems, shifty.” Shiro fiddled with his fork, not quite meeting her eyes. “You sure he is okay?”

His instinct was to tell her off. The retort already on his tongue, but he paused and thought it through. It seemed shifty, but what exactly would Keith be gaining by relying on letters? Also, he was friends with Hunk. At the least, he should talk to him. “Everything is okay.”

She studied him a moment, still doubtful, but she nodded. “I trust your judgment.” He gave her a grateful look; she was only looking out for him. After Adam, it came to no surprise. He changed the topic.

“Oh, did you hear what Slav did in his last presentation? The dean was so not pleased.” He settled into a tale of an almost full-blown explosion and Slav in the middle of it still rattling on about probability and alternate universes and about the many ways they were all going to die.

* * *

 

The news came just after midnight. Keith still hunched over massive amounts of paperwork, looked up as Lance entered without knocking. Not that he ever knocked. His face was grave.

“What is it?” Keith asked, already half risen from his chair, ready to take any action needed.

“No fun, as always,” Lance remarked, but the joke fell flat. Keith raised an eyebrow as an answer.

Lance sighed. “There is news from the border.” Keith’s hand twitched. “They have sighted Lotor’s generals. Kolivan wants to mobilize the battle witches and has called in the council.”

Keith sunk back down, his hands pressed flat onto the desk, thoughts running fast. Lotor. The one who was lost forever. Would this war never end? First Zarkon, once the fearless leader of the witches, and then their most terrible opponent, then Lotor his son, who had used honeyed words to lull them all into false security before striking like a snake at the heart of the council. And now his generals were again at large. He sighed. As he turned his face, his gaze hit the first letter Shiro had ever written to him. He’d kept them all, but this was the most special. He had put it on his desk to keep him motivated. The council meeting would be a formality. They’d vote for deploying, and he would go with them. It could take weeks, perhaps even a month to clear them out and stabilize the border. He closed his eyes for a second, an easy smile and kind gray eyes flashed behind them.

“Keith?” Lance hesitated.

“Can you do me a favor?” He looked up. Lance was studying him, deciding between seriousness or a joke. Something must have given his feelings away because Lance straightened and looked the witch he was.

“Anything.”

Keith opened a drawer and took out an envelope, he hesitated, an exhale, then with a flick of his finger send it over. It settled softly into Lance’s waiting hands, who raised an eyebrow.

“ _Shiro_?” Lance read carefully.

But Keith evaded his gaze. He scribbled on another page and send it also over. “Go to this address and give the letter to the co-owner Hunk, he knows what to do with it. And please tell him that I’m going to war.” There was a pause. Keith was convinced that his friend must have a million questions, but to his credit, he only nodded. “After your return report to the corp.” Lance saluted, then turned. At the door, he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“You seem happier.”

Keith smiled.

As anticipated, the council session was a formality, all were in favor of a deployment. Keith rose with a sigh, him and Kolivan the last to go.

“Will you be alright?” Kolivan’s gaze was heavy on him.

Keith shrugged. “This is not my first battle.”

Kolivan knocked on the table once, the only nervous gesture he ever showed. “I know, kit. But, I ask you, will you be alright?” There was a different seriousness in his tone.

Keith sighed and sunk down in his chair again, all the fight had left him. “I will be.” Battles took a personal toll on him. All the different magic, the death, the wounds, the outcry, and the emotions made for a mix that broke him inside. The goddess did not enjoy fighting, magic had not been created for that, but she also was not able to prevent it. Whenever a battle ravaged the realms, the pressure on Keith was worse than before.

Kolivan just nodded, the echo of an understanding in his eyes, but Keith was not sure, his uncle could fathom what happened inside him. With a shake of his head, he stood, Kolivan only meant well.

“I will see you in an hour.”

“Yes, sir.” After a short bow, Kolivan walked away. Keith stood alone in the large room. He already felt it. The darkness spreading from the eastern border, the first deaths, the displeasure of the goddess. He sighed.

When would the war be over?

* * *

 

Shiro looked around, he had entered the shop an hour ago. Keith should have been here already. Not that late, only twenty minutes, but Keith has never been late to one of their coffee meetings before. Dates, drifted through his mind, a thought he was fast to suppress. His eyes went to the bar, were the illustrious Coran, who captivated the customers with a lavish story about some of his travel adventures, operated the coffee maker. Shiro liked Coran, but right now? He wanted Hunk so he could ask him if he knew anything about Keith. He tapped his index finger on the table, which earned him a dirty look from one of his neighbor’s table. He could not find it in him to care.

An envelope appeared in his line of view, he looked up. There stood Hunk with a fresh pot of coffee and a kinda wonky smile. It made Shiro twitch.

“What’s up, Hunk?” He went for a light tone. The other shrugged, mindful of the coffee pot. With careful movements put Hunk the letter in front of Shiro. “Run an errand?” He nodded to Coran, who had the audience in the palm of his hand. Hunk chuckled at that.

“Needed to step out for a moment. I had an unexpected visitor.” His gaze shifted away.

Shiro blinked and asked. “Keith?” There was it again, that wonky smile.

“No.” Hunk said and paused, gnawing on his inner lip.

“Hunk, what is going on? You are scaring me.”

Hunk slumped. “I’m sorry.” He paused. “Keith has a new… security gig. He will be gone for quite some time. The visitor was a colleague of him.”

Shiro smiled. “It’s alright Hunk, at least I know.”

But Hunk jerkily shook his head. “No, it’s not alright, that job, he took, it’s dangerous, I just hope… I hope he will be alright.”

Shiro swallowed, okay, that was harder to parse. But still, he nodded. “I’m sure everything will work out in the end. Keith looks like he can take care of himself.”

Hunk just shrugged helplessly. “I hope you are right.” He sighed again. “I should get back to work.” Coran had finished his tale, and the customers looked like that only a hot beverage could help them over the now missing part in their souls.

_Hi Shiro,_

_You are not entirely correct if you argue that macaroni and cheese make a well-balanced meal. I imagine Hunk has as well some stern words and a clear opinion about that. As I plan to give you this letter directly, we can directly ask him, and he will be unhappy, but maybe we can get a free meal out of it. Hunks loves to feed us, well probably you, I just get things by proxy or well association._

_On a side note, Kolivan is on my back again, calling in meeting after meeting for me, and at which he is conveniently missing…_

* * *

 

At the end of week one, Shiro was calm. There was nothing to worry about. Every day he came in, throwing a hopeful look at Hunk, who shook his head and go back to the customers. Shiro would settle down in his seat and wait. Sometimes he would grade his papers. Three days in Allura accompanied him, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Hunk. He answered with a sheepish smile and a short shrug of his shoulders. Allura never said a word, just drank her coffee, watching him.

_Hi Keith,_

_Hunk brought me your letter and told me you have gone to a new job, a dangerous one. I’m still not sure what you do, but Hunk sounded shaken. Maybe one day, you will explain it. I’m sure you can take care of yourself, besides your occasional fainting. Allura believes you are some kind of ghost or even a figment of my imagination and if not that then a con artist. What you would gain in snubbing me, she has no idea, but it must be something hideous. Additional insights from her are: you are part of the mafia, a hit man, a spy on the run or lost prince. This is so embarrassing. Don’t ask, just don’t._

_Stay safe. I miss you._

_Shiro_

* * *

 

At the end of week two, there was a worry in Shiro’s heart. Hunk had a permanent frown on his face, right between the eyebrows. He appeared cheerful, and all smiles when a customer came, but in between, his gaze would settle on the outside world lost in thoughts. Shiro took his coffee but never drank it. There was a weird feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

_Hi Keith,_

_Hunk had told me it could be weeks. And I’m a patient man, patience yield focus, but I worry, I do. I hope you are doing all right, I hope you are eating and sleeping. Well, I should take my own advice to heart and not sound like a nagging housewife. But I, I care about you, and I care about what happens to you. So, please, be careful._

_Shiro_

* * *

 

At the end of week three, was Shiro a mess. Hunk put down a coffee pot at his elbow, but Shiro didn’t even want to look at him.

“Are you sleeping?” There was a soft light in Hunk’s gaze. Shiro’s shoulders slumped.

“No.”

“Have you been eating?” A gentle hand in his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He just felt so anxious. Hunk retreated and after ten minutes returned with a bowl with a near clear liquid and fresh bread.

“This is a simple broth, it will help you. Take your time. I have more in the back.” Shiro smiled, unsure if he could stomach it. There was a shift, Hunk blinked, once, twice.

“Sorry, I need to check something.” Shiro shrugged and ate.

Hunk had been right. The broth helped. The earthy flavor was seeping into his bones, grounding him yet again. He could do it, he could wait with a more clear mind. That thought lasted as long as Hunk returned, with a pained expression. He was wringing his fingers, his whole posture hunched. Shiro was already half out of his seat, before Hunk made a gesture to join him. They settled in the storage room.

“Hunk?” His voice a whisper. Was it the worst case? The second worst case? The third-

“He is missing.” Shiro stopped. His brain stopped. “They declared him missing in action, well not quite, as he is not military, but he is missing, had been missing for the last three days.”

Everything stopped.

_They told me today that you are missing. And I… I don’t know how to think, how shall I react. Please, just, just… l- please come home._

_Home to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are my life (Thanks to all who left the one or the other or even subscriped ;A;). Find me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/sparklefly2).


	5. Just here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And again a major thanks to [cryptidkickflip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidkickflip), because, well, that pal is always there, to let me rant, to beta, to talk, to scream together about beautiful man and above all about Sheith. ;A;  
> You are the best.
> 
> Also, I thank you, readers, you who took the time to read the story, to comment, leaving a kudo, who subscribed and bookmarked. I love you all so very very much.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the last chapter.

It was dark, inky dark. A deep blackness permeating everything. Keith was lost. He tried to remember what his last memory was. Perhaps the fight, where the sword almost cleaved him in half, and he danced out of reach. Or the break, where he caught up with the battle planning and what strategic adaptations needed to be done, or the one where Kolivan laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it for good luck. Or the dark gaze of Ezor as he closed the rift in her face? No, it was later, much later… Exhausted with trembling fingers but intact. Lance cleared him for home. The battle where they had taken another victory. He joined Kolivan in strengthening the borders, a task that took even more out of him, the aftermath leaving him swaying on his feet. He knew it took the same toll out of Kolivan but he was more adept in hiding it. They made him go home, forced him, but when he moved, he found himself in endless blackness with no way out.

* * *

 

“You know Keith, I never experienced this kind of connection with someone. It felt like a spark. You must think I’m out of my mind, but I like you.” Shiro crossed the sentence out, again, reading the rest over, he crumpled the paper to a ball and with a sigh, threw it into the trash can at his desk. He put his head in his hands, trying to avert the oncoming headache. Lost. He felt lost. How to reach out to someone he had no means to contact, shit, didn’t even know where he was?

* * *

 

What had his last thought been? What had interfered with his relocation? Keith closed his eyes, trying to find the balance, the magic within him. But he felt empty, so empty. There was no magic flowing here, nothing of the realms, to help him to replenish. Just a barren wasteland of nothing. Well, not nothing: coldness and an inky black surrounding. Everything flowed into itself. Slow. Crawling. Warping.

  


What was that last thought? Before opening himself up to the other place, the place he had wanted to go, the mother realm, home. Wanted to go… home. But it was not the house that flashed before his mind, the lush grasslands and the endless green forest. Not the blue sky, with the white fluffy clouds or the mountain range. No, a flashing smile and soft gray eyes, strong hands and gentle fingers had called out to him instead. Shiro. Shiro and home were the same. He’d tried to relocate to a place that did not exist, so the magic cast him into the void. The space between the other spaces. Thousands of places existed between. The astral plane was one, the cracks another, the reign of the darkness where Lotor and his generals came from, where the dark witch Haggar reigned. And thousands more. But the void was unique. A place for things without a place to go, indecisive things, lost items, things that have been cast away. Perhaps they could be found here, if somebody ever entered the void, looking for them. Nobody knew what happened to the things. Did they drift like him in this infinite space, until everything ended sometime if ever? Or did they dissolve, broken down into the nothingness, joining and creating the surrounding blackness?

* * *

 

Shiro sat in the twilight of the coming night, nursing a tumbler of whiskey, watching the shadows grow and shrink with the slow the moving of the full moon. The clock changed from 2.59 a.m. to 3 a.m. He found no rest these last nights. His dreams were plagued with every kind of horror. Horrors about what happened to Keith. Deep within something twisted; he pushed it down again. Now was not the time for that kind of thing. Instead, he concentrated on Keith’s soft smile and gorgeous laughter. About how he had felt in his arms, as he carried him into Hunk’s storage room after his fainting spell, like something precious.

* * *

 

Keith blinked. What would happen to him? Would he also just disappear? Bit by bit? Would he even be conscious for that? But what would happen to the realm? To the goddess? What would- No, nothing would happen to Shiro. Perhaps Lance would explain, or Hunk. If they even ever found out what had happened to him. Shiro. Would the other even miss him? Maybe. Missed like a friend? An acquaintance? Or more? Was there more? Another flutter. Another spark. Another dream of gray eyes and sweet smiles reproduced in endless patterns. His mind latched onto it, holding fast. For so long he had thought, he would never connect to another person again, the same way he had to… No, it was not the same, it felt different. More… more… home.

* * *

 

Talking to Hunk produced nothing new. His smile apologetic, but strained. The whole place had taken on a sad tone. The customers did not linger longer than they needed to, a steady stream of incoming and outgoing. And he sat in his, no their spot watching them like a speed up video. He was not sure why he came here today. Without thinking had he put on his shoes in the morning, slipped into his jacket, and left for Hunk’s. And he had stayed as morning shifted into lunchtime further to the first onslaughts of the nights.

* * *

 

Shiro.

* * *

 

“Keith.” He traced the words in his last letter, he had not yet given to Hunk. He needed to hold on to it, his one connection.

* * *

 

Something cracked in Keith. Broke apart.

 

Shiro.

* * *

 

“Just be safe.” Those thoughts ran through Shiro’s mind repeatedly, continuously.

* * *

 

A sliver of something beat inside Keith. Pushed into him. Magic. A fraction of his power returned, trickling in. Was it the goddess? But he heard no laughter, no roar. No, the connection reached beyond the void, to the outside. To Shiro.

* * *

 

“Come home. Home to me.” Please, please, if any god is out there listening, bring Keith home again.

Keith blinked. Once, twice. And then falling.

Home.

To Shiro. A flutter. A spark.

Everything shifted.

 

He did not need to open his eyes to know that he was in the alley again. That fateful place. In an odd sense of déjà vu, he swayed on his feet, needing the still dirty wall of the alley to keep him upright again. He crashed, hard and fast. The newfound magic gone, and his own life used to keep him breathing. He crept forward, ignoring the pity glances from rushers-by. His mind zeroed in one mission alone: Getting to the shop, getting to Shiro. It did not matter that the shop may be closed, that Shiro may not even be there. There was nothing more than this single focus. He needed to get there. One foot in front of the other, steadily. After what felt like hours he made it, he pressed the handle and collided with something. The world before him blurred. He blinked. A big man, broad shoulders, gray eyes, worry in them.

Shiro.

“Keith?” Surprise in a voice, hands grabbing him, steadying him, calling for someone. Hunk. Keith muddled brain provided, calling for Hunk. Why he wanted to ask. But his mouth formed none words. He didn’t care anymore. Shiro was there and held him, nothing else mattered anymore.

A second voice.

“He is tired. A good night’s sleep, and he will be alright again.” Hunk.

“Where does he live? I will take him.” Far far away, Keith’s brain provided.

“Uh, oh, no clue?” If he had the energy, he would have chuckled at Hunk’s answer.

“Keith?” Him? So warm. Safe. “Damn it, Keith. Where do you live?” Not here. A chuckle. Warm. A sigh. Darkness. Nothing.

Sounds. Shapes. Light passing? Moving. Warm. Warm. All the time, warm.

Soft.

Warmer. Perfect.

Something something.

Nothing.

 

Shiro was nervous, anxious even. Hunk’s words had been so easy. After he could not raise Keith anymore, deep asleep in his arms, Hunk had just looked at him with that soft smile and told him, “Just take him home.” 

“But-”

“I promise, everything will be alright. I will inform his colleagues.”

 

Still, it had been with some reluctance that Shiro had put Keith in a cab he’d called and taken them both to his apartment. He had hoped that this would not destroy that fragile thing that had formed between them. The way up to his door, was a half carry and a half walk, without Keith regaining conscious again. Even the vague grunts would taper out to breathy murmurs.

Shiro put him down on the bed and took off his boots and the jacket (scuffed and dirty). Keith slept on, and something fluttered anew in Shiro’s heart. The other softly breathing, trusting. He brushed a stray hair lock out of his eyes, Keith sighed, and Shiro froze for a second, unsure if the other would wake up, but Keith just buried his face in the pillow and slept on. Shiro took a last look and crept out of the room. He left the door ajar so that the hall light would spill into the room without disturbing Keith. There was a moment of hesitation, unsure, not yet ready to leave the other person alone. He had seen the deep shadows under the other’s eyes, the sunken in cheeks, and an earthy, sweaty odor, not yet repulsive, mixed with sulfur and ozone. With a sigh, he let it go and went across the hall into his study. He had still work to do.

 

A sound broke his concentration two hours later. He paused, listening into the silence. The clock on the wall ticking idly, the hum of the central heating, the faded sounds of the street outside. Atop that only silence. Was Keith awake? But no new sound joined the others, no shuffling, no creaking floorboards. He waited another moment, still nothing. He put it down to his own imagination and returned to the students’ essay, he still needed to grade.

 

Again the sound. A whimper.

 

An outcry.

 

Shit. In seconds Shiro was out the chair and across the hall. Keith was twitching around, his head going from one side to the other and back. His face all scrunched up. Babbling incoherent words.

 

Shouting.

 

“Stop, stop.” Another whimper. “No!” A cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Over and over again.

A nightmare. With caution, Shiro shook Keith’s shoulder, raising one arm prepared to defend himself. Remembering how he injured his friend, Matt, after he tried to shake Shiro out of one of his own nightmares after the accident that had taken his arm.

 “Keith.” He muttered, but with conviction. “You are safe. Listen to my voice. Follow it. Break free. Come on.” Keith’s eyes opened, blue eyes turning violet. A lurch, and Keith’s hand connected with Shiro’s arm. He said something, a sound like a hundred voices. Cold crept into Shiro’s heart. A faint terror. Moving shadows. He forced himself to stay calm.

“Keith.” He repeated. Again. “Keith.” Something like an ice cold prickle pierced him. “Keith!” Everything stopped, and Keith blinked.

“Shiro?” The voice was raspy.

Shiro swallowed. His throat felt dry, he pressed the breath out through the nose. Forced himself to keep his voice steady. “Hi.” He could see the confusion on Keith’s face, then a smile. The terror vanished, his lungs started working again.

“What- What happened?” Keith tried to sit up but failed. “Where am I?” He flopped down again, the eyes just a sliver.

“You had a nightmare.” Shiro’s voice was gentle.

Keith blinked again, his gaze not understanding. “Where am I?” His eyes roamed through the room he could see without moving his head. Settling at last on Shiro.

“My apartment, my bedroom.” Shiro tried to keep his voice even.

“Oh.” A pause. “What-” His eyes dropped close.

Shiro chuckled. Still having his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Go back to sleep.” He gazed down with soft eyes. “I will be here.”

“Safe.” A whisper, on the brink of sleep again, barely coherent.

“Yes, you are.” The answer was a humming sound. Keith’s breath evening out again. Shiro looked around; he didn’t want to leave Keith alone, but he needed to get the work done. With some reluctance, he let Keith shoulder go and moved around. As silent as possible, he put the nightstand more to the left so that the light from the lamp would not disturb the sleeping figure. He returned to his study to gather the papers and pens and moved one of the comfy chairs that stood in a bedroom corner nearer to the lamp and the bed and settled down to keep on grading.

  


Keith woke. Not quite there. He saw light. A chair and a figure. He knew that person. Shiro. Handling some papers. His brows furrowed, moving a pen around. Lost in his own world. A soft sight. A safe one. Keith relaxed.

 

He slept.

  


Sunlight was streaming through the window. Keith woke, trying to make sense of where he was. The night before was just a mix of hazy memories, nightmares and a warm feeling. The ceiling looked different. Plain and white. Not the enchanted starry night he was used to. He scrunched his nose, sniffing; even the smell was distinct. Repulsive. Oh god, that was him. Turning his head to the side, he stopped at the sight. Shiro. There was Shiro, sleeping with his upper half on the side of the bed. His face smashed into the blanket, the hair plastered to his face. Keith looked. The nightlight still turned on, the floor was littered with papers. Bits and pieces of the night before returned. The void, returning to the realm, the shop, Shiro, a nightmare, Shiro being there, easing him back into the sleep, the soft shuffling of paper, Shiro illuminated by the dim light of the night lamp. Shiro. Shiro. Shiro. Keith traced his face, stopping at soft gray eyes, and a slow, lazy smile.

“Hi.” Whispered Keith.

“Hi.” It was a soft admission, an exhale of something old, gone. Just a few shy inches between them. Just there. Another spark, rooted in him. He remembered the connection, the guide out of the void. Shiro’s eyes were bright and open, and oh so soft. So Keith did the only thing he could do. He kissed him. A soft press of lips on lips. Drawing back inch by inch, he kept his steady gaze on Shiro’s. He saw surprise and then a sweet smile. Shiro lifted a hand in a slow movement and caressed Keith cheek with a soft touch, carding through the hair at the neck. A deep rumble broke the moment.

Shiro chuckled, before drawing his hand away. “You want breakfast?”

Keith scrunched his nose. “And a shower.”

“Be my guest. I will lie out something you can wear.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “The bath is just down the hall to the right. There should be towels in the cabinet by the door.” He pressed a short kiss to Keith’s lips, collected the scattered papers, and with another soft look he went.

Keith waited a few seconds until his brain was working again. His heart pounded, but everything was so soft, feeling right. Stop thinking, a voice that sounded very much like Lance drifted through his mind. Keith blinked; the words rang true. He took a deep breath in and exhaled, measured. Whatever may happen from here on, it was time to stop analyzing and just let himself have it. And what way it ever may go, he would not regret it.

 

The shower soothed his aching muscles and drove away the last clouds of sleep. Perhaps he should feel embarrassed after his behavior last night, but it would not come. His heart was bursting, filled to the rim, about to spill over. He could feel his magic singing in his veins, wanting to be let out. He suppressed it as good as he was able too. Still, he could see some glittering sparks dancing in the surrounding air.

Clad in a robe he found at the bathroom door, and which smelled faintly like Shiro, he returned to the bedroom and found boxers (that made him blush), a t-shirt and drawstring pants. Everything was still a tad too big, but it would work. He could clean his own clothes with a flick of his fingers, but he was sure Shiro would notice that.

Following the sound of humming, he found the kitchen where Shiro was setting up the coffee maker. The soft smile remained on his face, paired with a new light in his eyes. Keith leaned against the door frame and watched him work. Shiro had changed the rumpled button-down for a t-shirt, and the pants were also softer looking. On a small table to his right, he had already laid out everything else. Cheese and bread, jam and plates. A toaster was going.

It felt warm and comfortable and everything in between. It made Keith smile. Shiro clicked on the coffee maker and turned around, tracing Keith’s figure for a moment with his eyes.

“Coffee is on in a minute; I warn you, it will not be Hunk’s.”

Keith laughed. “Nobody does coffee like Hunk.”

Shiro smile became a tad broader. Two steps and he was in front of Keith. Another soft kiss, a fraction longer than before. Still innocent, but full of promise. A heartbeat, another. Shiro took his hand and led him to the table.

Breakfast was a pleasant affair. The two talked as they always did, full of laughter and smiles, perhaps with more smiles than before. After they finished, Shiro put the items back into the fridge and took Keith’s hands again. Another heartbeat. Waiting. But for what? They already had a hundred coffee dates; had laughed and talked and found trust in each other; had found friendship and now the possibility of more; had even found out how it would be if they never saw each other again. He barely suppressed a shudder at the memory of the void.

“Okay?” Shiro’s voice was small and breathless.

Keith closed his eyes, breathing in for a second when he opened them again, he only saw Shiro.

“Okay.”

  


The third time Keith woke that day, warmth encircled him. His back pressed against a muscular chest. A delicious sourness sang through his body. His heart at ease. There was a kiss to his shoulder blade, the arm over his waist tightening a fraction. A sleepy murmur. Fingers following his many tattoos, tracing their own pattern in lazy movements onto him.

“You okay?” Caution.

Keith let himself relax. Falling into the ease of his heart. “Yeah.” And he was.

 

Everything else could come later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was it. For Part I. I know you will have lots of questions about everything, so be assured the Part II is written and needs only five rounds of editing. You can always subscribe to the series, so you will know when I start posting again. :D
> 
> Until then, again, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.
> 
> Find me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/sparklefly2), for Sheith RT's, opinions about everything and anything that I find interesting. Sometimes also writing updates.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are my life (well not really, but the help from time to time). Find me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/sparklefly2).


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